


hate the sin, love the sinner

by hamletton



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hate to Love, M/M, Modern Era, Secret Crush, characters are sorta wrong but im trying to fix it, modern!hamilton, this is really fluffy im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:12:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamletton/pseuds/hamletton
Summary: Jefferson really wanted to hate this prick.--CURRENTLY IN THE PROCESS OF REWRITING! Hoping to get one or two chapters up here really soon, so keep an eye out!!





	1. follow the scent of his enterprise

**Author's Note:**

> yo so this is my first ever hamilton fanfiction! i'm kind of sad that it took this long but i'm also kind of proud that i LASTED this long...  
> anyway, i've been planning to write this for a looong time, so i'm super happy that i'm finally getting it out there! i'm pretty proud of how it's turning out so far. thank you so much for reading, i hope you like it!  
> (p.s., this is inspired by SO many great works, but there are way too many to put in the inspired by thing, so i'll just credit the original authors in the notes if i use anything inspired by them. everything i directly use has been approved by the original authors, and i've only ever directly used something if i say something in the notes.)

t.j.

I woke up just as the landing announcement was being made, yawning and looking out the window into the soft Virginian sunlight- I almost couldn’t believe that I was finally home after being more than 3,000 miles away for five long years. ' _It feels good to be back_ ,' I thought with a smirk, as I grabbed my suitcase and carry on and moved to exit the plane.

I called Sally, my secretary, and had her take my car to the airport to pick me up, marvelling at the rolling fields as we drove to my house. I pondered the idea of really being free, as Madison had described throughout his most recent letters, the thought being almost surreal to me. I realised then how much I had really missed by being in France.

“Would you like me to take your bags to your room, sir?” asked Sally, earning a distracted nod from me and I stumbled out of the car and stretched. I followed her into the house and up to my room, eyes instantly falling on something that was out of place on my desk. “Oh, I meant to tell you in the car that you had gotten a letter earlier this morning from President Washington.”

“Really? Open it for me, will you darling?”

She scrambled to pick up the letter and I sighed quietly- the poor girl seemed to always be so nervous. Nonetheless, she retrieved the letter from its envelope and handed it to me. I skimmed it over, expression varying from confused to surprised to excited and smug to slightly exhausted, and back to surprised again; Washington had told me that I was to be Secretary of State, and that the Senate had already approved me for the job, but that I would have to go all the way to New York after having just gotten home. I turned to Sally, smiling.

“It seems that I’ll have to leave again,” I said with mock-irritation, raising my eyebrows. “Monsieur Washington has asked me to travel to New York to be Secretary of State.”  
“Shall I be joining you, sir? It happens that I have family in New York, I could live with them if you’d like.”  
“If you wish, darling,” I smiled. “Don’t want to force you to leave home or anything, though it would be helpful to have you by my side. Plus, I think I would miss your biting wit, Vixen.”

Vixen was a nickname that I had given her in the early stages of our friendship, when she had just taken the job as my secretary. She used to hate it, as well as me, but as we got closer, she grew used to it.

“As I would your empty insults, sir,” she said with a smirk. I grinned and shook my head fondly.

“Then we’re off, I guess. I figure I won’t have to pack much, since I hadn’t even gotten the chance to _un_ pack.”

.

When I arrived at the White House (having dropped Sally off to her sister’s apartment), I merely stood outside and marvelled for a good two minutes before showing my ID and going in. Before I could get anywhere, though, my old friend James Madison came running towards me, red-faced.

“Madison, what’s wrong? What’s happening?” I ask concernedly as he grabs my arm.

“It’s- it’s Hamilton. He's the enemy, it's him. The man is insane! His new financial plan is nothing more than complete government control. I’ve been fighting for the South all on my own. You need to get us out of this mess. Where the _hell_ have you been?”

“Uh.. France,” I replied, extremely confused. I thought he had known that..? And _who_ is Hamilton?

“We need to convince Washington that he’s wrong.”

 _'Well_ ,' I thought. ' _I guess I have my first Cabinet meeting today, then. Better think of something to say... about something I don't even know about.'_

Madison pulled me towards what I assumed was President Washington’s office, attempting to compose himself before opening the door. When we walked in, there were two pairs of eyes on me.

“Ah, Mr. Jefferson. Welcome home,” Washington said with a warm smile, standing up to shake my hand. I returned the smile and adjusted my posture. Then I turned to the man he was previously conversing with, assuming that this was the Hamilton that Madison had told me about. When I looked at him, something stirred in me.

“Mr. Jefferson? ..A-Alexander Hamilton.” The man cleared his throat, extending his hand as Washington did- but this time, when _we_ shook hands, I had an odd feeling in my stomach. I noticed Hamilton pull away suddenly and clear his throat again, and I turned away. This was the man I was supposed to hate…? “Um, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

 _**'What are you doing?'**   _ asked my subconscious contemptuously, scowling at me. **'** **_You’re not gay. Why are you feeling this way about a guy?'_ **

_'No, no, I’m just… nervous,'_ I told myself, pulling at my shirt from the bottom.

**_'Yeah, right. When do you ever get nervous?'_ **

My heart sped up as I looked back over at him from the corner of my eye. I had never even pondered the thought of being anything other than straight- just thinking of it scared me to no end. I repressed it.

I regained my composure and sneered at him, not returning the sentiment. Instead, I sniggered and eyed the messy pile of papers on the table where he was sitting, and then looked back up at him.

“So you’re the guy with the… _ingenious_ financial plan, I hear,” I remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm. He looked confused and offended, but quickly got a hold of himself and looked me in the eye.

“Let’s see your plan, then, Mr. Jefferson. I’m not so sure you have anything better, seeing as I’ve heard nothing about _you_ thus far.”

“So quick-witted.”

“Alas, I admit it.”   

“I bet the rest of the Cabinet loves you.”

“I should hope so, sir,” Hamilton said with a complacent smile.

Washington coughed awkwardly, causing Hamilton to jump and turn back to him. “Let’s discuss the plan now, shall we?”

“Yes, sir,” Hamilton and I said in unison.

The rest of the meeting was basically spent arguing, with Washington acting as a medium or middle ground between the two of us. Madison kind of just stood in the shadows, putting in his two cents every so often- but my mind frequently wandered to places other than the office. Why did Hamilton make me feel this way? Why, of all people, did _he_ make _me_ nervous? I never got nervous in front of _anyone._ I was always calm, composed, I never let anything or anyone get to me- so why him?

I thanked God that I was at least good at hiding my emotions, because I had a feeling that I had now ruined my chances of getting friendly with this man.

I stopped myself. Even if I hadn’t ruined the chances, I wouldn’t even try to get friendly with him! _‘I’m not gay, I’m not gay, I’m not gay.’_ I tried telling myself again as I admired how his eyes twinkled with devotion and excitement when he was talking about something he was passionate about. ' _Not gay._ Especially _not for Alexander Hamilton.'_


	2. i was weak, i was awake

_t.j._

I couldn’t sleep.

Thoughts of him kept bubbling up like boiling water; thoughts of his eyes, his lips, the way he talked, the feeling in my stomach when he looked at me… No matter how hard I tried to repress it, they always came back- but one moment in particular just wouldn’t leave me alone, and this time it did not have to do with Hamilton. ...In a way.

I was getting ready to go home when I- literally- bumped into President Washington. I mumbled a distracted apology, looking down at my papers as I tried to get past him.

“Heading home?” he asked, stopping in front of me. I nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. You need rest, some time to think. It seems you’ve had a very… _interesting_ day.”

Washington gave me an all-too-knowing smile and walked away, leaving me speechless and confused. Could he have figured out…? _‘No, he was just talking about… being thrown into this job,’_ I thought, trying to convince myself that there was nothing more to it.

It didn’t work.

How did he know? Surely it wasn’t _that_ obvious. I only stuttered a couple times, blushed maybe twice. And yeah, maybe I _did_ stare at him quite often, but so what? We _were_ having a debate, after all…!

Who was I kidding? I never stuttered, I never blushed, I never stared, and I _always_ kept my cool. Why was talking to this imbecile any different? Why the _hell_ did he, of all people, make me feel this way? A man, making me feel the same way that a woman could! I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something different about him.

.

_a.h._

Yesterday played in my mind throughout the night, keeping me even more awake then normal. I had to write it all down, I decided. All of it.

_“Sir,” interrupted Madison, looking up at the President from his phone. His face was oddly red and he had a strange look in his eye. “Pardon me, but Thomas is on his way here.”_

_“Good,” Washington said. “Would you mind meeting him at the door? I have a feeling he doesn’t know where my office is.”_

_“Not at all, sir.” He looked at me with such fury that it was almost intimidating before he ran out and slammed the door behind him._ ‘That Mr. Madison has… issues,’ _I thought to myself, shaking my head and turning back to Washington. We didn’t get very far, though, before Madison stormed back in, this time with someone else by his side._

 _As soon as I saw him, everything fell away. The only people remaining in the room were him and me. Everything seemed to have a strange glow to it... Life was going in slow motion, it was silent, my whole body was tingling. I felt alive._   
_There was an intense rush to my stomach, like it was going to turn over. I was nervous- when was I ever nervous anymore? Where even_ was _I? Lost in his eyes, that's where. My heart beat went off the charts, it may have even stopped for a moment. Everything was going so slow._   
_We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before time sped back up again._ _  
_ "Mr. Jefferson? ..A-Alexander Hamilton."

_What was happening?_

_I had to clear my throat and straighten my posture before offering a hand for him to shake, praying that he couldn’t see me trembling. I felt a shock when he touched my hand and pulled away quickly, clearing my throat again and blushing. Mr. Jefferson turned away. “Um, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”_

_I noticed Jefferson's expression change from dazed to cocky, and his gaze wandered to my plan on the desk behind us. He snickered._   
_“So you’re the guy with the…_ ingenious _financial plan, I hear."_   
_My heart rate quickened again. His voice was scornful and mocking, something that normally would feel like but a pinch to me, but coming from Jefferson... felt like a punch to the throat. I sniffed as if it didn't affect me._   
_“Let’s see your plan, then, Mr. Jefferson. I’m not so sure you have anything better, seeing as I’ve heard nothing about_ you _thus far.”_ _  
_ The rest of the meeting felt surreal to me, like none of it was really happening... like it was a dream. I couldn't believe how mean this man was being to me, or how much more it hurt than anyone else. What had I done to him?

 _I didn't understand._   
_What I also didn't understand was my feelings towards him... towards a_ man _. I wasn't supposed to feel this way, I never have, I..._   
_Laurens. My dear Laurens._   
_Maybe this was what I felt for him, all those years ago. But no, of course not, because... it just... I'm not gay, of course I'm not gay, I never have been. Especially not for this empty-headed asshole that had nothing good to say about me_ or _our government. Of course not._   
_But his eyes... they were dark, mysterious and chocolatey brown, and twinkled like midnight stars..._   
_His lips looked so soft and almost irresistibly kissable, bright pink against his dark skin..._   
_His face was held forward, locking my eyes in a steady gaze, holding and air of authority and dominance..._   
_His features were hard and pointed: sharp, chiseled jawline, defined muscles, sculpted cheekbones..._   
_No, I wasn't gay, and I never will be._ _  
_ Especially not for Thomas Jefferson.

I had two cups of coffee the next morning. Though lack of sleep was nothing new for me, I had a feeling that I would need the extra energy. I spent more time than usual getting ready for work, and I had to remind myself that there was nothing special going on today, so why would I have to get any more dressed up? Just a normal day at work. Normal.

Normal.

_Normal._

I couldn’t go a second without thinking of him, no matter how hard I tried. The sound of his voice flooded my brain, even if he _was_ insulting me and everything I believed in. Did he _have_ to be wearing a tight, long-sleeved shirt the day I met him? Why _must_ he have looked so sleepy and disheveled? And why, God, _why_ did I have to be such a hopeless romantic?

The sheer _idea_ of me being gay terrified me. I had to get away from this, I had to abandon it, I couldn’t-... I just couldn’t…

But what if I did? What if I had? There was no law against homosexuality, at least not anymore. There was nothing wrong with it in my eyes, or the eyes of (most of) the public, so why the hell was it so scary to me? So _what_ if I fell in love with a man at first sight? So _what_ if I liked being shorter than my partner? And _so what_ if I found defined muscles and jawlines extremely attractive?

But… if I was judged?

If I was made fun of?

If I was rejected for the way I felt about the same sex?

Maybe that’s what I was so afraid of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh things are starting to get saucy between tjeffs and ham! what do you think will happen in the next chapter? will they admit their feelings or keep fighting with each other? let me know down in the comments!!!  
> hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as i did writing it! (p.s. i hope this wasn't too short of a chapter,, aah)


	3. the challenge: demand satisfaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prepare yourselves. this one is... a bit extensive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all (or at least 97% of) credit goes to Chekovskycookie from their work "Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton: A Tale of Hate, Love, and New Beginnings". I just changed the wording and organized it a little differently. A big thank you to them, and I recommend you go check out that story as well. <3

_ a.h.  _

It was only a couple weeks after I had met Jefferson, and another day at work already meant more arguments with him. As we continued to work together, we continued to become more and more hostile towards each other. 

I took a breath and prepared myself to present my opinion; Thomas’ arms were crossed, legs shoulder width apart, the black storm in his eyes boiling over. I sighed quietly. Thomas Jefferson might have been the most stubborn, arrogant, obnoxious, prissy asshole I’d ever met. Almost everything I said was met with snarky remarks just _dripping_ with derision and disrespect. I just didn’t understand why the man hated me so much… _but_ _goddamn, his eyes were intimidating._

“Um, well…” I began, laying out my papers on the table. “I took the liberty of writing down the pros and cons, and…” 

I trailed off, looking up at Jefferson. He had snatched the papers off the table and was examining them critically, giving me a tiny ray of hope that we were finally getting somewhere… until he threw them to the ground in disdain. I looked at him in horror as he trampled on the charts and graphs I had worked so hard on with dark, twisted humour in his eyes. “How did-” he dug his heel into a painstakingly coloured diagram. “-such an ignorant-” Another sharp jab with his foot. He kept eye contact with me the entire time, a casual expression on his face, like he wasn’t ruining hours of work right in front of my eyes. “-obnoxious-” He kicked a couple of papers to the other side of the room. “-arrogant, loudmouth, presumptuous bastard-” One or two of the papers found their way under the table. “- _ ever  _ manage to find his way into President George Washington’s office?” 

I looked at him, for once speechless, with tears in my eyes that were threatening to spill over.

“This conversation is clearly over. I’m telling Washington that we agreed on my plan.” And with that, he walked off and tried the doorknob. 

That was it- this was why people were not to be trusted. They were always looking for the best, most painful ways to beat you, to hurt you, to break you. I had let this man trod over me for the past couple of weeks, abuse me, treat me like less than the gum on the sidewalk. 

_ No more. _

I stalked over to where Thomas was still fiddling with the doorknob, which seemed to be stuck. He turned to me, sneering, about to say something, when I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down several inches to get face-to-face. As I looked into his dark, brooding eyes, I had to refrain from punching him into the next dimension. 

“Listen to me,” I practically growled through gritted teeth. “I realise that we are from different parties and have different opinions, but I have been trying for  _ weeks  _ to be cooperative, to see both sides, to work things out, and you have done nothing but insult me and put me down. Why?  _ WHY?! WHY  _ do you hate me so much, when I have done nothing but  _ try _ ?!” 

I was barely inches away from his face now, tears blurring my vision and closer than ever to spilling over. I let go of Jefferson’s collar, stepping back, expecting to see anger or hatred in the face of my enemy. Instead, he laughed lowly.

“So, the lamb yells at the lion. I’ll tell you why I think so poorly of you, Alexander. I have wanted this job for so, so long.” He was approaching me once again, taking large menacing steps. His voice was quiet and deep, which was, in turn more intimidating than when he yelled. I stumbled backward. “So long. I left school when I was  _ fourteen  _ to help my father  _ farm  _ for a living. Do you have any  _ idea  _ how hard I had to work just to get here? How much I  _ struggled?”  _ he spat, taking a big step and getting right into my face. My anger reach a boiling point inside of me.  _ ‘He thinks  _ he  _ has struggled?!’  _ “And I will not let some careless  _ fool  _ get in my way.”

I took another step back, but instead of stepping on the floor, I happened to slip on one of the papers Jefferson had kicked. I felt my foot catch on something and realised that he was falling on top of me, bracing for impact that didn’t come; Thomas had managed to catch himself, putting his hands on either side of me. 

We were both on the ground, nose-to-nose, looking at each other and panting. I tried to look away, but couldn’t seem to break contact with those eyes… I felt his breath on my lips.

We were so close…

And then the door opened… and there stood the President. 

Thomas was the first to stand, clearing his throat awkwardly and not even offering to help me up. 

“Nice job tripping me, Hamilton,” he taunted lamely. I got up and dusted myself off, gaining the courage to look at the President- bad idea. He looked furious. 

“ _ What _ is the meaning of this?” he practically shouted, gesturing to the papers that were strewn about the floor. “Can I not leave you two alone for more than five minutes?”

Jefferson cleared his throat, gathering my papers and offering them to me, staring intently at the ground beneath his feet. “Yeah, uh. Sorry about these. I guess I overreacted a little.” 

“Yeah, that’s an understatement,” I mumbled.   
“Hamilton…” Washington warned. I blushed and murmured a quiet  _ ‘sorry, sir.’  _ Both of us gazed awkwardly around the room, trying to avoid each other’s gaze as well as the President’s. “Now I’m going to leave the room again, and I want you two to  _ apologize  _ and  _ shake hands.  _ If I come back here and find out that you two have been fighting again, we’ll have real issues. Understood?”    
“Yes, sir.”

“God, I feel like I’m dealing with school children…” Washington muttered, voice trailing off as he shook his head and shut the door behind him, leaving Jefferson and I both standing rigidly in our places.

I stuck out my hand tentatively, hoping that he didn’t notice me trembling. Thomas took a breath and shook it before dropping my hand quickly. ‘ _ Again?’  _ I thought.  _ ‘Didn’t he do that the first time we met, too?’.  _

I cleared my throat and laid out my papers again, heart pounding out of my chest, praying to God that he wouldn’t try to destroy them again. I watched as he examined the papers, and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding when he set them back down softly. 

“This is a good start,” he began in a tone that shocked me almost more than when he wreaked havoc on my work. His voice was gentle… friendly, even. And somewhere, there may have been a tiny hint of respect. Now  _ that  _ was something I would have never expected to come from his mouth in a million years. “But I think you’re missing a couple of points.” 

He took out a piece of paper from the notebook next to him and I inched closer, curious yet anxious about what the man would do next. 

The next hour or so was spent deep in discussions, planning, writing, organizing. I felt like I was working with a completely different person, one who actually listened to and considered my ideas, treated me as an equal. Once or twice, I may have actually felt like I was enjoying myself… and Thomas seemed to be, too. A couple of times, I managed to look up from what I was writing down to see Jefferson smiling at him, making me question whether or not the man had ever even yelled at him at all. It seemed like no one with that kind of smile could ever do harm to anybody. Despite that fact, as soon as Thomas realised that I was looking at him, his smile would fade and he would look down and blush. I looked down as well.

“Anyway,” Jefferson would say, clearing his throat embarrassedly and trying to act as though I had seen nothing. “As I was saying…” 

And that was when I noticed it: a piece of drywall stuck in his hair. 

I tried to pay attention to what he was saying, but my eyes kept straying to that bit of misplaced white in his dark black hair. Little out-of-place things like that drove my OCD insane, and did since I was a child. I would always have my room, my school books, everything completely organized. Even now, my desk was meticulously straightened out, everything had a certain place and would stay there. What bothered me the most that Jefferson didn’t even  _ realise  _ that with one flick, everything would be placed back in order and we could get back to work… but as long as that tiny off-white spot stayed in his hair, I couldn’t function. I just couldn’t take it anymore; I reached over and brushed it out without even thinking. Jefferson’s voice faltered and he stopped talking- and I was  _ not  _ ready for the look he was about to give me.

I instantly looked down, but I could still feel Thomas’ cold, hard gaze drilling into the top of my head.

“And just what the  _ hell  _ do you think you’re playing at…?” 

The contempt in his voice chilled the room. 

“I… nothing. There was a piece of drywall in your hair and it was distracting me so I just… flicked it out.” 

“You couldn’t have just told me so I could do it myself?” he asked accusingly. “And you tripped me on purpose, didn’t you? So I would fall on top of you? And now you’re touching my hair?... Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” 

“You don’t even know what you’re asking me to confess, Thomas. That was an accident. And there really was a piece of drywall in your hair. It was driving me insane.”

“What, do you have OCD or something?” he spat. “And why are you calling me Thomas? You never call me Thomas.”

“Uh, actually, yeah. And you called me Alex earlier.” I lifted my gaze to meet his eyes.

“That… was a mistake,” he said hesitantly. 

“And falling on top of me was, too, hmm? Or was it?”

Finally, I was the one calling the shots. I was  _ tired  _ of cowering under the man, of having to always play the weak one. It felt good to take charge. I stood up a little straighter.

“What are you suggesting, Al- Hamilton...?” 

“You know exactly what I’m suggesting,  _ Jefferson _ .” Yeah, I caught that.

“Oh, don’t even try. Do you have any idea how pathetic you look right now? It’s like a kitten trying to roar.” 

It was like this guy was just  _ begging  _ to be yelled at. 

“I may be pathetic, but at least I’m not an obnoxious, prissy brat!” I yelled, throwing my hands up and taking a step towards him again. “You always think you’re  _ soo  _ much better than everyone else! Would it  _ kill  _ you to listen to someone else’s opinions for once?” 

Jefferson went quiet.

He put his hand against my chest and pushed me back, making me look down and try to control the urge to punch him right in that sharp, chiseled jaw of his… His cold eyes bored a hole into my skull, and I forced myself to look back up at him, heart pounding. The bastard was standing as straight as humanly possible, as if trying to show off how much of a respectable, composed man he was. I caught my breath and regained my composure, straightening out and trying to match his rigid posture. It was a far cry- Jefferson, at about a towering 6’2”, was stately and regal and dignified, while I (at a mere 5’6” or so) came off as more of a frightened schoolboy. 

“Just my luck. An outspoken Federalist. This is going to be a long term.” Thomas walked towards the door silently. As he reached the handle, which was conveniently not stuck anymore, he paused and turned to me. “Try not to ruin the economy between now and breakfast. The President and I have enough on our plates without having to clean up your messes.”

And with that, I was alone.

I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel. Angry? Embarrassed? Confused? Hurt? Honestly, I was all of the above.

And somehow, I still couldn’t wait to see Jefferson again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus fucking christ, this was a long chapter to write. excuse me while my fingers fall off.


	4. when i was seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to Chekovskycookie (again) and Bennie133 for their amazing ideas that helped create this chapter. go read their works :)

_t.j._

Another sleepless night, this time spent contemplating what I had done, over and over again. Alexander had done _nothing_ to deserve the way I treated him, yet I did it anyway. And why? To hide the fact that I was _gay_ for the blasted man? Who was I, Draco Malfoy? There were better ways I could’ve gone about it.

I remembered what I had done just before I was about to leave, which made me feel a _little_ better about myself, but not much.

_I was on my way out of the building when I happened to bump into Hamilton, quite literally, tripping him and almost causing him to fall for the second time today. Before he could, though, I quickly reached out to catch him and pull him up, turning him around so he was facing me. I didn’t fully realise how short the man was until then; the top of his head just barely reached my nose, and he had to look up to meet my eyes. I had to refrain from crushing him in a hug from how cute he was._

_“No more falling for you today,” I chuckled, causing Alex to giggle lightly and look down at his hands. I was surprised at how easily we were conversing despite how horribly I had treated him earlier._

_“Listen, uh, Alex… can I call you Alex?”_

_He nodded shyly, and so did I. He seemed kind of startled, and my heart shattered a bit. I laughed nervously and hoped I didn’t look as vulnerable as I felt._

_“Uh, anyway, I… wanted to apologise for how I acted today. It was extremely rude and uncalled for and I… I promise you I’m not like that normally, I guess I just saw you as a little unprofessional and dim at first, but I-I know you’re not.” I was talking faster and faster by the second, and I took a breath. I hoped he didn’t notice me blushing. “What I’m trying to say is… I really enjoyed working with you today. And I’m really sorry for how I acted before. And I know that the things I said won’t be very easy to forget, but… I just…” I took another small breath and held out my hand. “Do you… do you forgive me?”_

_Hamilton just stared at me for a minute, seeming shocked, before he finally let out a breath and shook my hand; I let out a breath, too, that I didn’t know I was holding. I had done nothing but bully and abuse him, and he was choosing to_ forgive _me? I almost expected him to slap me instead of shaking my hand._

_“Th-thank you.”_

_His hand was warm and soft and small, and it felt like it fit perfectly in mine. It seemed like an eternity before our arms returned to our sides. I wanted to hug him so, so badly._

_“Well, uh. I have to go. My sister decided to pay me a visit today,” I said, rolling my eyes in an attempt to ease up the tension and anxiety (that was, admittedly, mostly coming from me). Hamilton snickered. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”_

_“Tomorrow,” he agreed. As I turned to walk away, I heard him say my name again, and I turned around to find him smiling nervously at me. “Hey, this doesn’t mean that I have to stop destroying you in debates, does it?”_

_“Still cocky as ever, Mr. Hamilton. In your dreams.”_

_As I walked away for the second time, I found myself smiling widely at my feet._

I pulled at my hair, groaning. _Why_ did he have to make me feel this way? And _why_ did I already ruin it for myself? My whole body trembled every time I saw him, I strived just to prove myself. I felt like every time he talked to me, my brain shut off. My stomach filled with butterflies. It was like I wanted nothing more than just to be with him, to talk with him, to make him laugh and smile… but at the same time I wanted to punch him for making me feel this way. I wanted to simply brush it off, to claim that it was just the extra beer I had at dinner the night before or something, but I knew it wasn’t. In fact, I knew _exactly_ what had come over me upon meeting Hamilton those few weeks ago… and if that was fact, how the hell was I supposed to go on living like everything was completely normal when he was around?

_-_

a.h.

The next day, at the end of the work day, I found myself in a position that I had dreaded since the very day I came to New York. The rain had become so heavy that it was heard throughout the building, and I didn’t bring an umbrella. In my defense, it hadn’t called for rain today… but here it was. I swallowed nervously when I detected the wind picking up. If I could pick one thing in life to get rid of, it would be heavy rains and storms. I checked the time and sighed, heart beating slightly faster- it was after work hours. I looked out the window, frowning, imagining having to face the rain to get to my car and just wanting to be home under a blanket.

Quickly, before I could change my mind and decide just to hide under a desk all night, I grabbed my things and shoved them in my backpack. I adjusted my suit and put on a tough face, forming a plan in my head: I would dart for the doors, ignore everyone, and hope to God that it didn’t get worse before he got home. He just didn’t want to start having a panic attack in front of everyone.

I made my way across the building, going through the routine security. Once I was cleared, I speed-walked to the lobby, just ready to be home already. I paused at the door for a moment, letting out a shaky breath as I watched the swaying trees and pelting rain. I braced myself, reaching for the door.

“Worried about a little rain, Hamilton?” Jefferson asked with a slight smirk as he got out his umbrella, getting ready to step out as well. I glared at him. Despite his apology yesterday, he could still be an obnoxious brat.

“Unlike _some_ people, I came prepared,” he hummed, eyes gleaming. I took a deep breath.

“Listen here, you stupid titan Southerner,” I growled, mind too taken over by fear to be polite. “Every time I bring a-” thunder cracked, and I jumped slightly. “-an umbrella to work, it’s sunnier than Springtime, and whenever I don’t, it’s like someone angered the Gods, so I don’t know what you’re expecting me to-”

Lightning flashed, and at the same time, thunder roared and a branch fell off of a tree. I squeaked and hid my face with my scarf, blushing instantly. I felt Jefferson’s eyes on me.

“Are you… scared of storms, Alexander?”

I looked up at him, stunned. Was he… _not_ making fun of me? Or did I just not catch it? I opened my mouth to say something, but then decided against it and put my game face back on.

“N-no, of course not. It’s just a little-” _More thunder._ “-rain.”

I stomped down the first flight of stairs, into the lobby, and marched towards the last set of doors to the outside world. I could do this, I could keep my cool, I just had to make it to my damn car. I could hear Jefferson following quietly behind me, making me even more determined to prove myself. I hoped that he didn’t notice me jump every time thunder struck, and _really_ hoped he wouldn’t use it against him next time in his taunts. I pushed the door open with shaky hands, tears in my eyes. I’d lived in New York for a while, but _never_ have I had to brave a storm as bad as this.

I bit my lip hard as rain pelted down on me, swearing to myself that I wouldn’t cry, not in front of Thomas at least. I’d be soaked before I even made it to my car, anyway.

Not more than a few steps out the door, the loudest crack of thunder hit, and another bolt of lightning struck, causing me to squeak again and the tears to fall. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t. _‘Fuck this,’_ I thought, running back towards a slightly taken aback Jefferson and burying my face in his chest. I got as close to him as physically possible, shaking violently and trying not to soak his jacket too much with my tears and the rain I got hit with. He stopped moving for a moment, until I felt a hand on my back.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Uh, here, look. Do you want me to walk you to your car? Or… I could drive you home or something. I… I have an umbrella, if you want to use it…” The concern in his voice startled me most of all, and I looked up at him, blushing. His eyes were soft, expression full of worry and confusion, calming me down slightly. I nodded vigorously, not really knowing which option I was agreeing to. “Okay. Okay, I’ll… I’ll walk you to your car? Is that okay?”

I nodded again, turning as he began to walk, still trying to stay as close to him as I could. I felt like a child, but I didn’t care- and I don’t think Jefferson did either.

When we got to my car, I unlocked it with shaky hands and he reached around me to open the door. I blushed deeper than I already was, sure that my face was the same colour as the cherries he so often had in his office.   
“Th-thank you,” I mumbled, getting into the driver’s seat and avoiding his gaze. “Uh, y-you don’t need a ride home, do you?”

“No, I have my car here. Thank you, though.”

I nodded, and so did he. I shut the door.

-

The next day, I found a sleek, black umbrella resting against my desk with a note attached to it.

_In case of an emergency, keep this in your office. And don’t worry, I won’t mention what happened to anyone._

_\- Thomas J._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one night, and working on uploading a third one. i feel like alexander hamilton himself.  
> i hope you enjoy!


	5. take a break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by Bennie133.

_a.h._

“But sir!”

“No, Alexander, you have been overworking yourself _way_ too much. You stay here for _hours_ after you’re required to, and when you get home you even _still_ continue to work. You’re basically _living_ off of coffee and granola bars. I hate seeing you like this. You are non-stop. You do not cease. You need a break,” Washington explained unwaveringly. “Go home, Alexander. That’s an order.”

I sighed. “Yes, sir…”

“And Alexander?”

“Sir?”

“If I find out that you came back any earlier than Monday at seven that morning, you will be suspended. At least take the weekend off, _please_.”

I stared at him, both angry and thankful that he cared so much. But what would I do with my weekend if I couldn’t go to work? My life basically _was_ my work.

When I got home, I changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, opening my laptop and smirking. Just because I wasn’t allowed to come _into_ work didn’t mean that I couldn’t _do_ work. Just when I was about to start typing out an email, the doorbell rang. I looked up, startled and confused- I hadn’t invited anyone over, and I couldn’t think of anyone that didn’t have work… perhaps it was Laurens? I checked my phone for messages declaring someone’s arrival- nothing. When the doorbell rang a few more times, I glowered.

"One second!" I yelled, getting up. It rang four more times before he yanked the door open, glaring at a smirking Jefferson. He had his finger over the bell, and rang it once more. “WHAT?! WHAT is the POINT of that?!”

“Just making sure you’re here is all,” he answered, grinning smugly and pushing past me to get in. “Really? You didn’t even attempt to clean up after yourself?”

There was an empty takeout box and a beer bottle sitting on the table next to the couch, but the rest of the room was basically spotless. I had to bite my cheek to keep from screaming. I clenched my hands into fists.

“Are you serious? You rang the doorbell like 50 fucking times! And even if you didn’t, there are like, _two_ things that are out of place in here!” I yelled. “What are you even doing here? Come to gloat about how I was forced out of work? To brag about how you’re gonna get more work done now? Huh?”

Jefferson frowned. “None of the above. You’re way too stressed, Alexander.”

My expression softened.

“What are you doing here?” I asked once more, this time without malice, simply confused now. Jefferson had taken the takeout box and beer bottle and thrown them away, and was now looking at me with a hand on his hip.

“I’d like to think this counts as helping you,” he sighed, seeming slightly hurt. “My plan was for you to take a shower and for me to make you dinner, seeing as you look like you haven’t eaten in weeks. I have groceries in my car in case you don’t have much. Then we’re gonna watch a movie or something. I noticed how stressed and overworked you’ve been recently, and I also wanted to do something to apologise for how I’ve treated you since we met, so I just thought… I mean, I can leave if you want, but  I just…”

I stood there, merely looking at him for a moment, slack-jawed. Then I shook my head. “No, no, don’t leave, just… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… hurt your feelings…”

Thomas brightened considerably. “Well good. Go get in the shower and I’ll bring the groceries in.”

I was beyond confused now, but walked to the bathroom silently. If Thomas was cooking, then he had time to just relax in the shower. It did feel rather nice. It took a lot of effort to wash his hair and body, barely wanting to move as the hot water cascaded down his body, making himself relax and realize just how tired he was.

When he was finally motivated to get out, he dried his hair a little with a towel and combed it, throwing it into a messy bun as he put on his last clean pair of sweatpants and a tight T shirt. As soon as he walked out, he was hit with an amazing smell that took him aback. When I walked into the kitchen, I heard Jefferson humming a random tune (which sounded rather lovely- though probably French, knowing him. Who would have guessed that he of all people would be a good singer?) and pouring a thick white sauce onto chicken. I had to suppress a giggle when I saw the macaroni, remembering what someone had told me about him being obsessed with pasta.

“That smells really good,” I said quietly, eyeing the two wine glasses on the table.

“I know,” he said with an over confident grin, setting two plates down. “I made it.”

I stood there awkwardly for a moment before he gave me a look and pushed me towards the chair. “Sit, eat. We’re in _your_ house, anyway, it’s not like you need an invitation.”

I blushed as he poured us both wine and sat down across from me. I mumbled out a thank you before cutting into the chicken when he knew Thomas wasn’t looking, still abnormally shy around him (or anyone, for that matter. He hated eating in front of people). I took a small bite, not being able to stop myself from moaning at the taste as I chewed. I almost didn’t notice Jefferson shift uncomfortably and blush.

“Holy shit, Thomas,” I said, wide-eyed. “This is fucking delicious.”

Thomas preened a little at the compliment before blushing more and looking down, smiling widely.

When we had both finished eating (and when I had finished raving about his cooking skills), Jefferson stood up from the table.

“What kind of movies do you like?”

I shrugged. "I'm not a huge movie watcher. I prefer books, to be honest. Uhm, I do enjoy historical movies though, and an occasional horror or thrill. Like, psychological horror movies," I rattled off, sipping the last of my wine from the glass. Thomas motioned to ask if I wanted more, but I shook my head.

With a hum, Thomas grabbed our plates and set them in the sink, putting water on them to soak. He went with me to the couch in the living room as I grabbed the remote, and after a small while, we settled on watching Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Thomas had never seen any of the movies, and I bounced a bit in excitement as I babbled on to him how great it was.

After that one ended, we silently let the next one play. The atmosphere was so relaxed and I was so worn out that I grew sleepy; the sun had gone down, and only the television lit the room now. I knew I should probably have gotten up, but I let myself lean against Thomas’ shoulder. I kept shifting around, trying to get comfortable, before Thomas pushed my head onto his lap without looking at me. I blushed but went with it, laying on my side and turning my attention back to the movie.  
After a short while, I felt my eyes getting heavy, and then slowly, everything got dark.

_t.j._

Halfway into the second movie, Alexander had fallen asleep in my lap. I looked down at him fondly, tracing his jaw with my thumb and hoping that he really was asleep and not just faking it. Either way, I don’t think I would have minded much. I was so gone for him at this point that I could barely hide it anymore.

I got up carefully, making sure that I didn’t wake him, and pondered carrying him to his bed. Praying that he wasn’t a light sleeper, I decided to go with it and picked him up bridal-style, following the path he took earlier to get to his room. He stirred slightly and I bit my lip, moving the blanket and placing him on the bed gently.

“Goodnight, Alexander,” I murmured almost inaudibly, brushing a stray hair out of his face.

I leaned down and placed a light kiss on his temple, grabbing a pen and sticky note off of his bedside table. After a few moments, I smiled fondly at him again before stepping out and silently closing the door behind me.

_If you need anything, do not hesitate._

_\- Thomas J._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew. got a third chapter in in one night. sorry it was so short. hope you like this one as well.


	6. let me be a part of the narrative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by bennie133. hopefully the last heavily-inspired chapter for awhile :p

_a.h._

I had just finished reading several reports and signing off on them when the door to my office burst open, frightening me. I was just glad that I didn’t have my coffee in my hand, or else there would’ve been a much bigger problem on my end.

“Sir, I’m so sorry! I told him you were busy but he just pushed past me!” said Allison, my secretary, sounding exasperated and nervous. “I tried to stop him!”

I watched Thomas smirk as he approached me, looking smug as always.

“And I told her that I intended to see you,” he said with a slight shrug. I glanced between the two before rolling my eyes and turning towards my secretary.

“It’s alright, Allison. Thank you anyway,” I said, nodding in dismissal. “Oh, actually, would you be a dear and drop these off for me?”

“Of course, sir,” she said, glaring at Jefferson once more before walking out and closing the door behind her with a bit more force than was necessary.

“So, Alexander,” he hummed, leaning on his hands on the front of my desk, looking at me fondly. “How are you?”

“I’m in the middle of work, Thomas, what do you need?” I asked with a slight groan, turning my chair towards him. I glanced at the paperwork on my desk, just wanting to get back to it.

The other man eyed me, pouting rather flirtatiously before leaning over and putting his elbows on the desk, propping his head up.

“What, you don’t enjoy my company anymore?” he asked, smirking slightly at the end of the sentence.

“Oh my god, I just want to work.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes. “No interruptions. _Please.”_

I really didn’t mind Jefferson’s company, if we’re being honest; I rather enjoyed it, actually. But right now, all I wanted to do was work… and maybe mull over what the _hell_ was going on between the two of us.

Thomas stood back up, shoulder drooping slightly and then straightening as he frowned a bit. He looked away awkwardly, then back at me, and then finally, at the floor.

“I, uh… I apologise,” he said quietly, fiddling with the pen in his fingers. “I- I’ll just come back later. If… if that’s alright with you.”

He then turned and walked out, leaving me staring at the now empty space, bewildered. Did Thomas Jefferson- _the_ Thomas Jefferson- just stutter and leave because _I_ raised my voice at _him_ a little bit? I sat back in my chair, putting my face in my hands. I laid my head on my desk, then sat back up and shook it to try and clear my thoughts. Taking a large sip of my coffee, I pulled my papers over to me in attempt to focus on working again. After awhile, my head started to pound. I slipped my glasses on, drank a sip of coffee, and then wrote something down. And that was how my day went until I was finished.

I happened to finish what I had, though, at around noon, and sat back in my chair, staring into nothingness.

“Maybe I should…” I thought aloud, voice trailing off. _Thomas seemed strange today. Perhaps I should check on him? It would merely be fair, and plus, I was very curious as to what had gone on earlier…_ Never, since we had met, had the Virginian seemed so unsure. It was decided.

I pushed away the stack of paperwork, taking off my glasses and standing up. As I stepped out of the office, I began to wonder if this would come across to Thomas. Oh well; it’s not like he hadn’t done the same only a couple of hours ago.

Suddenly, I was knocked to the side a bit, and I looked up to find Jefferson with glasses (he had glasses?... They looked nice on him.) perched on the bridge of his nose, reading a book.

“Ah, Alexander,” he greeted lamely.

“Thomas.” I looked up a bit to eye the tall man in front of me. “I was actually just on my way to your office.”

“Oh?”

He looked genuinely surprised, and I blushed lightly.

“Yes. You seemed… frazzled… this morning. Are you alright?’

I stepped closer.

“Oh, um, y-yes, p-perfectly fine,” he stammered, clutching his book tighter to his chest. Frowning, I raised an eyebrow.

“Right, and I’m tall,” I said, before rethinking the statement and making a face. “Don’t acknowledge that. But really, Thomas, what’s wrong?”

He stared at me.

“Gotolunchwithme?” he said, his words rushed and quiet, and nothing like this usual speech. I looked at him blankly and he blushed.

“Uh, sorry? I.. didn’t.. catch any of that.”

Thomas let out a sigh, grabbing me by the wrist and causing me to let out a small noise of protest. The Virginian marched down the hall pointedly, pulling me behind him.

“Jefferson, what is going on?” I demanded, watching as he bit his lip.

“Hush, Alexander,” he replied simply, noticing people staring at our hands and moving his to my back. With a small huff, I shoved my hands into my pockets, marvelling at the fact that the taller man seemed to think that I would willingly be whisked away to wherever the hell he was taking me without saying a word the whole rest of the walk. If that was truly the case, he had another thing coming for him.

“Thomas.” I said once more, this time with more force and demand in my voice. “Where. are. we going?”

Jefferson took a breath.

“We, my dear Alexander, are going on a date,” he said in a fake-sweet voice, smiling almost bitterly, but then looked down at me and hesitated. “Th-that is, if you wouldn’t mind me calling it that. I, uh…”

He sighed as I eyed him questioningly.

“I… would like to take you on a date, Alex. Out. For lunch. W-with me. Uh… I- yeah.”

I bit my lip, heart continuing to flutter as I thought up a response that didn’t sound rude, but not too eager either.

“I, uh, I-I’d like that,” I said finally, mentally cringing at myself, cheeks turning pink.

When I saw Jefferson absolutely beaming, I couldn’t help but grin as well- _‘Damn, honestly- what a smile,’_ I thought. _‘Too contagious for his own good.’_

“Good, good…” he mumbled, looking down and running a hand through his hair. My stomach filled with butterflies, the sight of Thomas so flustered and shy incredibly adorable. I reached for his hand tentatively; he jumped but then relaxed, smiling down at me fondly. We were off.

.

“Where are we _gooiing_?” I whined impatiently, probably for about the millionth time that whole car ride, making Thomas chuckle.

“I _told_ you, Alexander, it's a _surprise._ Don't you trust me?”

“I…” that was an unexpectedly heavy question for such a lighthearted conversation, but I nodded anyway. “Yeah, I do, but I still hate surprises.”

“You're such a little kid. It's a good thing we're here now,” he smirked, shaking his head and taking his keys out of the ignition. I pouted and crossed my arms, accidentally proving his point. Jefferson got out of the car and walked around to my side, opening the door for me and making me blush.

“I can open a door for myself, thank you,” I teased, taking his hand as I got out. When I gained my bearings, I looked around confusedly.

“Just let me be a gentleman for once, goddamnit,” he laughed, pausing when he saw my face. “Oh, so um, I was kind of… uh, I kind of planned this earlier because I was hoping that you'd agree so I, uh…”

His words failed him and he gave up, walking to the back of his car and opening the trunk. He pulled out a basket and I looked from him to the empty field of grass and back to him, a small smile on my face as I saw his nervous expression.

“You, Mr. Jefferson… are _so_ cliché.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Not necessarily,” I smirked. “But I have observed _one_ negative about this situation, at least on your end.”

“Oh?” he seemed extremely concerned and I almost regretting saying that, but I giggled nonetheless. “What’s-.. what's that?”

“That you can't catch me,” I said deadpanned, before suddenly taking off in the other direction at full speed.

“Hey!” he yelled surprisedly, laughing. “No fair, I have a fucking basket in my hand!”

I heard a small thump followed by quick footsteps and I tried to run faster, but tripped on what felt like a rock and fell with a soft thud. I flipped onto my back and laughed loudly when Jefferson fell on the same rock, falling on top of me for the second time since we'd met. We both laid there with smiles on our faces, staring into each other's’ eyes, panting, faces inches from each other's…

Thomas fell onto his back next to me and I heard him giggle softly, sounding breathless. I grinned.

“I hate you so much,” he panted.

“Why do I have a feeling that was a complete lie?” I chuckled.

“Mr. Hamilton, if only you were that brilliant in debates, then maybe we’d get somewhere.”

“Oh, go get the basket, smartass.” I hit his arm gently and stared up at the clouds. A moment later, he came back with the basket and a blanket, setting them down beside me.

When we had finished almost everything he’d brought and maybe even wrestled in the grass a bit, we got up and headed for his car again. I began to tremble slightly, going through my thoughts over and over as we walked hand in hand, planning my every next move accordingly. Unfortunately, he seemed to notice.

“You alright?” he asked concernedly, looking down at me as we approached the car. I took a deep breath and nodded.

“More than okay,” I smiled. I looked up into his eyes, biting my lip shyly and getting up onto my tiptoes in an attempt to match his height. I still, though, couldn't quite reach his face, so I grabbed his collar and pulled him close enough so that our noses were touching.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a low, nervous whisper, searching my eyes for answers. I hushed him.

“Well, I was going to kiss you,” I mumbled. “If that's okay.”

Jefferson paused, smiling gently.

“More than okay,” he echoed.

My heart pounded as I put my hands on either side of his face, letting my eyes flutter closed, touching my lips to his. Without pulling away, he lifted me onto the hood of his car, deepening the kiss and cupping my face.

“How did we go from wanting to rip each other's throats out every second…” Thomas began, pressing another soft kiss to my mouth, leaving me with my eyes closed and lips still slightly parted. “...to this?”

I bit my lip lightly before responding.

“Because you were just so _taken_ by me that you didn't know what to do with yourself,” I responded dramatically, trying not to grin. “So you resorted to basically bullying me. You know, they always said that if a boy was mean to you it meant he liked you.”

“You, _mon chéri_ , are so close to the truth that I have begun to believe you're a mind reader.”

“Kiss me again,” I whispered, almost inaudibly. “Please.”

“That would be _mon plaisir, monsieur,”_ he smirked, connecting our lips once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaah i'm so so so so so so so so so so so SO sorry for the delayed update! i've had this chapter written for a little while but i just haven't had the motivation to type it out and i've been focusing a lot on my mental health and gaah!! i'm so sorry! i hope you like it (even if it's not the best chapter i've ever written)!  
> (p.s. i'm working on another fluffy chapter to make up for lost time)


	7. updates/note from the author

hello friendos ^-^

um, so i've realised recently that with this story, i haven't really captured the characters very well. in real life  _and_ in the musical, jefferson and hamilton would  _not_ have been this soft/forgiving/etc. this quickly, so i've decided that i'm going to restart this. 

fear not (not that any of you were, lol); i'm gonna keep this version up, but i'm probably just not gonna update it. i'll make another version where the personalities match the characters a little better. it'll be pretty much the same storyline though, and i'll probably be reusing the chapters in this, just later on (etc.)

sorry if this made no sense lol. 

also, if anyone needs to reach me, i'll put my social medias in the notes at the end!

thank you for all of your wonderful comments, as well as kudos and subscriptions and all that! this has been my most successful story on ao3. pretty much every time i got a comment/kudos/subscription/etc. i squealed and ran to tell my step mom. so thank you so much!!

with all the love in the world,

alex x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> | instagram |  
> spam account- @confusedquacking (has two owners, i'm alex)  
> | twitter |  
> @hamletton  
> love y'all!


End file.
